The Warehouse
by jibber59
Summary: This was, absolutely, without a doubt, the last warehouse he was ever going into.


"God as my witness, this is the LAST warehouse I am walking into." Ezra coughed as he finished his statement. "It never ends well.

He forced himself to lift his head, ignoring the spinning that resulted. The dust was settling, mostly on top of him, spurring him to recognize that yet another suit was likely ruined. Without bothering to stifle the groan, then gasp that resulted, he rolled onto his back. Pain radiated through his body, flaring particularly powerfully on his left knee and hip. As that stabbing sensation fade, he became aware of the tightness in his chest.

"No, this never ends well. I suppose I am in fact speaking to myself. None of the communications links are functional, are they. Vin? Chris? JD? No, I thought not." He knew that speaking out loud was futile at this point, but the sound comforted him to some degree, so he determined to continue.

"OK Standish, you appear to be on your own here. Not exactly a foreign concept to you, although it has been a while. Time to get yourself together. Sit up." Matching action to thought, he tried to pull himself up, and immediately regretted the act. Pushing past the pain, he drew himself upright, leaning back on the debris behind him when he had shifted around. It took several minutes for his breathing to return to something resembling normal.

Now able to look around, he became increasing concerned about his situation. Smoke was filling the space. Slowly, because of the size of the area, but still filling it up. Flames licked at the framework, but, he noted, gratefully, it was at the far end of the structure. It was the building itself that was a far greater cause for concern.

Gaping holes had appeared in two walls. The good side of that was they served as an escape route for the smoke. The bad side was the winds coming thorough served to fan the flames, further eroding was left of the support system.

He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to create his current dilemma. He knew what was supposed to have happened. A simple gun deal. Five weeks to set it up, and apparently 5 minutes for it all to quite literally be blown to hell.

What were the odds that one of the buyers was represented by someone living in Ezra's own condo building? Really – the screening board would have to work harder on future reference reviews. He only hoped he was going to live long enough to bring this to their attention.

He'd tried to bluff though it, normally an art at which he excelled. But they chose not to believe he had a cousin in town with whom he was frequently confused. Chose not to believe that there was a perfectly valid explanation for him passing himself off a buyer from out of state. No, they chose to kill him, or at least make what appeared to be a very strong effort to do so.

Ezra knew the rest of the team would be moving in fast. They would have been coming to the rescue the moment questions were raised. Sadly, the nature of the neighbourhood meant they were still a few minutes away. Precious minutes as it turned out.

What kind of fool opens fire with a sub machine gun in a room filled with guns and ammo? OK, may not filled, but obviously there had been sufficient in the back of the truck to do considerable damage. Proof was the explosion that occurred when the truck was peppered with bullets. Ezra reluctantly admitted to himself that he was, in part, to blame for all of this. After all, he was the one who elected to shoot the idiot with the gun. How was he to know the fool would keep firing as he fell, no longer possessing the ability to aim the weapon. He was able to take some comfort in the knowledge that, since the bad guys had taken cover near the truck, the odds that they had survived the blast were somewhere between slim and none, favouring the latter. Those not lucky enough to die instantly had undoubtedly been consumed by the subsequent fire. Something about going out in flames seemed fitting, given what he assumed their final resting place would be.

He looked with surprising dispassion at his own injuries. The leg had been twisted at an unnatural angle, and his movements served on to intensify the throbbing. He assumed the pressure on his chest was the result of cracked, or probably broken ribs and was therefore puzzled to look down now and see a slowly expanding stain ruining his custom fitted shirt. He cautiously lifted the frayed edge of the leather jacket, wishing he'd been a little more surprised to see the small bullet hole at the edge of the shirt pocket. "Damn; I really need to stay the hell away from warehouses." he thought again, as reality began to overcome the numbing shock that had kept him conscious up to this point.

"Chris is going to be very upset by this turn of events." He spoke to himself. "He does so hate paperwork, and there is simply a ton of it that must be done when an agent dies." He coughed again as his eyes closed and he slid into the darkens.

Nathan glared at JD.

"Is there a reason you failed to notice this guy lived practically next door to Ezra when you ran checks on everybody. I mean, I assume you DID run checks on everybody – right? Cause you would think living in the same building as Ezra would have been something worth noticing."

"Back off Nathan." Buck spoke to defend the youngest of their team, who looked mortified by the turn of events. "JD did the best he could."

"He's right Nathan. This guy – whoever he is – wasn't on our list of known associates. Ezra didn't have a name for him, only that there'd be someone new driving the truck." Chris sounded remarkably calm for a man working on an impromptu rescue of an agent whose cover had just been destroyed.

Nathan took a deep breath as they all moved rapidly toward the warehouse. "Yeah – I know. I just needed to - I don't know. I'm sorry kid, I know you did your job, and nobody's better at it."

"It's ok Nathan – I'm scared too. We'll get this – "

He was cut off by the sound of gunfire coming over the comms, and heard directly in the distance. All thought of a cautious approach disappeared as they charged toward the sounds. Thirty seconds later they were almost knocked off their feet by the concussive force of the explosion that rocked the industrial neighbourhood.

"Goddamned sons of bitches! What the hell are they doing?"

"Doubt it was deliberate Buck." Chris shouted back while running. He skidded to an abrupt stop when he rounded the corner, causing Vin to slam into him. Chris found his voice after a second. "JD - Get fire, ambulance, anybody – and get them here now!"

"Think he was in there?" Vin barely whispered.

"Yeah, dammit, I do."

Vin needed no further incentive to charge toward what was left of the building. Buck grabbed at him, catching the collar of his buckskin jacket. He effortlessly shrugged out of the garment and continued his run.

"Vin, you fool - you can't help him if you get yourself burned up"

"No fire at the east side – that's where I'll go in."

Buck sighed slightly. "Well, if you can't stop him, join him" he mumbled to himself, putting on a burst of speed.

The explosion had created gaping holes providing multiple access points. Vin headed toward the first one he saw, only to be forced back as flames licked at the debris on the ground. A moment later he found a better option, clearing smouldering debris out of the way.

"Ezra – can you hear me? Ezra, where are you?" It was almost impossible to see anything through the haze of smoke and dust, but he felt Buck's hand on his shoulder, and a moment later felt Chris grab his arm. "You go left Buck, I'll take right. Vin, straight ahead. Shout when you find him, or fire your gun. We'll come running."

Josiah had been held back from joining the search by Nathan. "We need you out here. They're gonna need help with him, and at least one of us has to stay out of the smoke to be strong enough. I'm gonna stay near the door – sort of a grounding point so they know where to bring him out." Josiah nodded a reluctant agreement, but still moved in close enough to shout words of encouragement to both the searchers and Ezra. He only hoped the latter could hear.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

He was fairly certain he was hallucinating. That was, after all, an inevitable side effect of oxygen deprivation. It was also the only thing that explained the voices calling his name, pulling him back from his unconscious state. He decided to pass the time coming up with theories as to who would be calling for him. He had little else to do, given he had no ability to move from where he was, and only a very limited amount of time. He feared if he didn't keep his mind occupied he would start cataloguing regrets, and there was simply no way he had enough time to list all of those.

He could, with little effort, come up with the names of dozens of people who would happily summon him through death's door, not to mention those who would be happy to kick him there from the land of the living as well. Aside from all the professional encounters, he could look back over his life and think of any number of personal encounters that had ended quite badly. He really did not have a particularly stellar track record when it came to basic human interaction, he thought sadly. Too late to do anything about it now. And so much for avoiding the cataloguing of regrets, he chastised himself.

Back to the voices at hand. Male voices – all of them. Well that was a bit sad. No women wanted him. Of course, given that they were calling him to his afterlife, maybe that was a good thing. They sounded anxious; even stressed. And angry. One bore an uncanny resemblance to Larabee's voice and tone. Oh shit. He wasn't hallucinating. They were here. Those idiots were here, and in the warehouse. They'd get themselves killed, he thought angrily. He desperately wished he had the strength to shout out to them – tell them to leave, escape while they still could. But by this point he barely had the strength form the thought. He certainly couldn't draw a deep enough breath to shout. Even the thought of doing it triggered a cough reflex in him, one that he was too weak to react to. All he could do was slowly tip over as he again slipped into unconsciousness.

"Ezra? Standish damn it answer me! Can anybody see anything?" The shouting was causing Chris no small amount of discomfort. The smoke was thick and heavy, and he knew the men couldn't stay in there much longer. He stopped moving, dropping to his knees in an effort to both avoid the rising smoke, and try to scan the floor for any sign of where Ezra might be. Flames cast a glow through the black clouds, and distorted perceptions of what could be seen. He felt his stomach clench when his eyes lit on a pair of shoes sticking out from under debris. Burned out crates surrounded it, and there was simply no way he could imagine that the body attached would still be alive. He crawled over as quickly as he could manage, fighting the desire to call to the others. If this was bad, and he could see no way it wouldn't be, they didn't need to see the body. As he got close enough for a proper look, he let out a slightly guilty sigh of relief. One glance was all it took to see this body was far too large to have belonged to Ezra. Undoubtedly one of the suspects. Ezra would likely be able to tell them precisely who it was, or rather, had been. He was about to call again when he heard a shot ring out. He tried to orient himself to the sound, and was able to do so when it was repeated a few seconds later. He took a deep breath from the comparatively smoke free air at ground level and rose, running as fast as he dared toward the back corner. He almost bumped into Buck on the same path. Neither spoke, trying to conserve what limited oxygen they had.

Vin was kneeling on the ground beside what appeared to be a bundle of broken shelving and burned laundry. They could hear him speaking anxiously. "Ezra? Wake up Ezra. Stay with us." He frantically pulled at the debris that was surrounding the agent to the ground. Chris and Buck began doing the same.

"I don't think he's breathing Chris. He isn't responding to me."

Chris coughed before answering. "Let's just get him the hell out of here. Worry about the rest outside." A moment, which seem like eternity, later they were able to carefully shift Ezra up. "Be careful of the leg – it doesn't look good." Buck leaned forward and the other two helped him lift Ezra in a fireman's carry and make a run for the exit. A far part of the roof collapsed behind them, spurring them to an even faster escape. The smoke and soot had all but blinded them, but they could still make out the light of the doorway, and the sound of Nathan and Josiah shouting. Nathan grabbed at them as they got close enough, steering them to freedom and fresh air. Josiah lifted Ezra away, carrying him several feet further to be clear of the danger. The others collapsed to the ground, all coughing heavily. Nathan's effort to check on the was pushed aside.

"Ezra." Vin gasped. "Help Ezra."

Josiah had placed Ezra on the ground and now had his ear close to the unconscious man's mouth. He let out his own sigh of relief when he felt the faint, but present, movement of air. "He's breathing Nathan, but only just. Should I do mouth to mouth?"

"Not if he's breathing. Push – real gentle, on his chest. Try to encourage some deeper breath." The others had basically crawled over to get close.

"How bad is he hurt?" Buck choked out.

"Can't tell yet." Josiah answered. "I'm too focused on keeping him breathing. Damn. Nathan, he's bleeding."

Nathan was beside him instantly. Pulling back the soot covered, blood soaked shirt, he looked at the wound. He grabbed the torn shirt sleeve Buck had ripped off, and pressed it to the injury. "It doesn't look to bad, but it's not helping him. Where the hell is the ambulance?" Even as he spoke, they could hear the first sounds of sirens. The distinctive tone of an ambulance arrived sounded to him to be slightly closer that the fire trucks. It was barely a minute later when he saw JD waving the vehicles in the right direction, and then running after them. He arrived, winded and anxious, as the medics were moving Josiah and Nathan out of the way so they could check on their patient.

The men all watched as Ezra was poked at and prodded, tensing as they waited in vain for him to respond. He was loaded onto the stretcher and into the back of the vehicle, the respirator mask all but hiding his face. As one attendant hurried to the driver's seat, the second turned to the others. "Any of you need to be in here – not for company, for treatment."

"We're fine. We'll be coming in right behind you."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

"I don't know Chris. I'm pretty sure she must be related to you." Vin was taking his seat in the waiting room after spending half an hour all but strapped down with an oxygen mask on his face. Chris and Buck had been subjected to the same procedure. Thirty minutes of treatment in before any information on Ezra would be shared. "I mean, to threaten us that way – it is a very Larabee kind of thing to do." Chris just growled, which given the soreness of his throat was not a difficult sound to create.

JD was moving to sit next to Buck. "You guys OK now?"

"We were OK before kid. One of those better safe than sorry things is all that was. Any news?"

"Nothing. Nathan keeps pacing past the front desk, but I think they are onto our tricks by this point. They seem to be getting better at ignoring us."

"Lord knows, they have had more than enough experience." Josiah agreed.

"Any word yet on any other survivors?" Vin was fairly certain he knew the answer before he had even voiced the questions.

"Last I heard, was just bodies being pulled out. Can't believe some idiot started shooting in there." Buck rasped out.

"I can't believe I was stupid enough to put Ezra in the middle of it." JD bemoaned. "If he doesn't make it…"

"In the first place, I'm willing to be he'll be fine. We've all learned by now not to bet against him, on anything." Nathan sat next to JD. "And in the second place, I never should have said what I did back in the van JD. This wasn't your fault. Sometimes shit just happens."

"But it was my job." JD countered. "I should have picked up on that guy."

"How JD?" Chris asked. "You ran every search you could, didn't you?" The young agent nodded reluctantly. "Sometimes things are just not there to be found. And sometimes, like now, that ends bad. But that doesn't make it your fault. You can't for a second think Ezra would want you beating yourself up over this?"

"Course he wouldn't," Buck agreed. "So, unless you want him mad at you, I'd knock it off."

"I guess so, but it still don't feel right."

"Course not. And it's going to make you look a little harder, and little more outside the box next time, so consider it a valuable learning experience."

They knew JD hadn't forgiven himself yet, and likely wouldn't for some time to come, but at least he didn't seem quite as down as he had a few minutes earlier. They went back to their preferred forms of expressing impatience. Vin was estimating Chris had paced a half marathon by the time the doctor appeared asking if anyone was here with Ezra Standish. They converged on him in a swarm that had him taking several steps back.

"I won't bother to ask if you're family. I doubt I'd get a negative response. Mr. Standish is resting in the ICU. We are monitoring his breathing. There was a great deal of smoke inhaled, and he will be on oxygen for at least several more hours to try to compensate. There are cracked and broken ribs, but no puncture to the lungs. The bullet didn't do any serious damage, although there was a fair bit of blood loss, which has weakened him. A mild concussion, multiple cuts and contusions and a badly sprained knee that will be causing him no small amount of discomfort. We'll be keeping him here for a few days to monitor everything, but I expect he will be enjoying the comfort of his own bed by the end of the week."

There was a collective sigh of relief that could be heard to the far corners of the building. "When can we see him Doc?" Chris beat the others to the same question.

"As I said, he is resting now. I would suggest you come by in the morning." The doctor looked up at six sets of eyes staring at him. "Of course, there's no reason you couldn't take a quick look in on him now, just to put your minds at ease." He was relieved by the smiles he saw. "I do caution you, I was not joking about needing his rest. A few more minutes in there and the outcome would have been quite different. No more than 10 minutes gentlemen. And don't try to wake him."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

"Can't exactly say he looks peaceful or resting." Buck voiced what they all were thinking. Ezra was pale, almost blending into the bedsheets. The only colour on his face came from a deep bruise lining his cheek and disappearing under the bandage covering the left half of his forehead. Similar bruising pepper his arms, and they were sure other parts of his body were comparably marked. The cannula feeding oxygen to him was only one of numerous tubes that served as a reminder of what the doctor had said: Ezra was lucky to be here.

"Well, I guess he looks better than he did when he got here." Chris replied.

Nathan took a more pragmatic view. "Given what the doctor said about his condition, I'd say he looks pretty damn good."

"The important thing is, he's going to be alright." JD summed it up for all of them.

"No," came a weak, whispered voice from the bed. "the important thing is that we all learned a valuable lesson."

"You're supposed to be sleeping." Chris chastised softly.

"And definitely not talking," Josiah added.

"Important lesson." Ezra repeated.

"Yeah Ezra, I know." JD looked guilty. "I learned to triple check every person from every angle so you don't get caught up like that again."

"No JD, not that. Not your fault either."

"Told you he'd say that." Buck smiled. "We learned not to start a gunfight in a room full of explosives? Pretty sure most of us knew that."

"I didn't fire first!" Ezra coughed at the exertion, and immediately felt several hands settling to calm him down.

"Take it easy Ezra. Buck was just kidding." Vin said, glaring at the joker.

"Sorry, Ezra. We know you didn't start this mess."

"OK, Ezra. You need to rest and you won't until you tell us this, so share. What lesson did we learn?" Chris knew it was the only way to get his agent to settle down.

"We have learned that under no circumstance, however dire, desperate or essential it may deemed to be, will I ever again go into a warehouse. Don't laugh Chris. I am serious. Well I am glad you all find this so amusing. Out. All of you. I need my rest."

"Yes, you do Ezra. And we can talk about future assignments, and the conditions you want to place on them when you're feeling better." Chris patted his hand gently as the men turned to leave.

"Chris?"

"Yes Ezra?"

"You do know I am serious?"

"Of course you are Ezra."

"It always ends badly."

"It went bad, Ezra. Didn't end bad." Ezra raised an eyebrow to express his confusion. "You're still with us Ezra, so you'll forgive us if we happen to think that is a pretty good ending."

"I will concede the point. But that doesn't mean I'm going back into another warehouse Chris. Ever."

"You sleep on it Ezra, then we'll talk."

They left quietly, and Ezra was half asleep before the door closed.

"Think he means it Chris? Think he wants out of the undercover work?"

"Absolutely JD. And the feeling will stick with him until the next job comes along."

Ezra moaned softly to himself. It was truly frustrating just how well these men knew him, he thought.


End file.
